


you hate me (tell someone who cares)

by RobotsWillCry



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Gen, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hank Anderson and Connor Live Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Protective Hank Anderson, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24675328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobotsWillCry/pseuds/RobotsWillCry
Summary: “They’re calling them alive now, you know,” Ben said in a lowered voice. “We’re gonna have to start looking at them as such, dead or not.”Gavin unlocked the car and pushed the door open.“They can call themselves whatever they want,” he told Ben, “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Relationships: Connor/Gavin Reed, Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 25
Kudos: 144





	1. prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin contemplates the aftermath of the android revolution.

**DEC 11TH, 2038**

Thirty-two days.

It’s been thirty-two days since Gavin Reed had last seen the android sent by CyberLife. The last time he’d seen it in person, at least.

He’d seen it all over the news, of course. It was hard to miss — their scuffle in the Archive Room that left him splayed out and unconscious on the cold, tiled floor resulted in a two-week suspension with no pay for, as Captain Fowler had put it, “being a monumental fucking idiot.”

Gavin had disputed that interpretation of events.

“How the hell else would you describe it, Detective?” Fowler had bellowed, slamming his hands against his desk as he rose slightly out of his chair. “You antagonized the android that was supposed to be _helping_ Anderson’s investigation, and _then_ , to make matters _worse_ , you thought it’d be an even better idea to _damage government property_!”

_Okay, that wasn’t so bad._

Fowler sat back down in his chair, crossed his arms as he leaned back, and added, “And to top it all off, you got your ass kicked.”

Gavin likes to think that he’d maintained some decorum up until that last one.

“The only reason I ‘got my ass kicked’ is ‘cause that fuckin’ plastic piece of shit was sticking its plastic nose where it didn’t belong!” he’d said. “Maybe if it wasn’t so busy taking a fuckin’ load from Anderson, listening to him talking about, ‘O _h, maybe we’re on the wrong side_ ,’ I wouldn’t have been making sure that _department evidence_ wasn’t getting tampered with! And while we’re at it, Anderson can _get fucked_!”

Fowler pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Detective,” he sighed with exasperation, “I’d say it’s pretty clear that with the exception of maybe Miller, no one is getting fucked. By an android or _otherwise_. Whatever happens to the android is CyberLife’s problem now, and as for you — just take the two weeks. And for fuck’s sake, try not to bust up any toasters in the mean time.”

Gavin tossed his favorite mug at the coffee brewer in the break room on his way out of the precinct.

_Fuck._

_______

**NOV 11TH, 2038**

The captain had been wrong about one thing; the android had become a lot more than just CyberLife’s problem.

Somehow, it was everywhere. _Inescapable_. Two days into his suspension and roughly about four hours since he’d last opened his fridge to check if it needed to be deep-cleaned — _again_ — Gavin sunk into the worn-out fabric of his sofa and turned on the television.

And there it was. Leading a goddamned army of androids across the city to…

What _was_ it leading them to? A revolution? An uprising? Freedom? Liberation? What do you even call a group of robots who suddenly decide that they’ve gained free will?

Gavin flicked off the TV and hurled the remote, missing by a few inches. He narrowed his eyes at the screen.

_Jesus,_ he thought. _We are so fucked._

_____

**NOV 23RD, 2038**

“Welcome back, Reed,” Tina greeted him with a shit-eating grin once he’d officially been allowed back into the precinct. “Ready to get replaced by a sentient RoboCop?”

Gavin gave her a one-fingered salute as he slid into his chair and powered on his terminal. Tina responded with a laugh and began making her way towards the break room.

_The password you have entered is incorrect. Please check your credentials and try again._

“Jesus, really?” he muttered irritably. “It’s been two fuckin’ weeks.”

“Careful, Reed,” he heard Tina say with a teasing lilt in her voice. “If you can’t even remember your password, you’re gonna get replaced by a Super Detective with twice your physical strength and way more brain power.”

“Fuck off, Chen,” Gavin shot back. “A plastic piece of shit might have the agility, but they’ll never match my prowess.”

Suddenly, it dawned on him. He leaned forward to peer over his terminal and across the bullpen.

“Tina…” he said slowly. “Where the fuck’s Anderson?”

“Oh,” she stopped in her tracks. “He was suspended, same as you. Punching a fed will do that, not that I’d know. But Fowler forced him to finally take his mandatory eighty hours on top of the suspension. Probably to get him out of his hair, if you ask me.” She paused momentarily. “Who knows? Maybe the lieutenant and his android rode off into the sunset and they all lived happily ever after.”

_The password you have entered is incorrect. Please check your credentials and try again._

“Huh.”

_The password you have entered is incorrect. Please check your credentials and try again._

_The password you have entered is incorrect. Please check your credentials…_

_The password you have entered…_

_____

**NOV 25TH, 2038**

“Today, in another unforgettable moment in our country’s history, President Warren will be spending Thanksgiving convening with Markus, the leader of the Android Revolution. Their first meeting to bridge together the disparity between androids and humans will be held at Markus’ headquarters at the newly-founded android sanctuary known as New Jericho…”

Gavin switched off the car radio and reclined his seat, crossing his hands behind his head as he closed his eyes. He’d wanted to take Thanksgiving off, just because he _could_ , but even he wasn’t enough of a dipshit to test Fowler’s limits fresh off of a suspension.

He and Ben had gotten the call early that morning: an android murdered and dumped behind a strip on Camden Avenue in the Ravendale District.

_No, not murdered_ , Gavin corrected himself. _Dismantled. Androids don’t get murdered._

He moved his hands to cross them behind his headrest and began to drum his fingers against the leather as he recalled his conversation with Fowler that morning. _It’s an android, why the fuck are you sending me?_ had been his first question. His second had been: _Why the hell do you need_ two _detectives there?_

“You’re a homicide detective, Reed,” the captain had stated simply. “And like it or not, androids are being labeled as alive now, so if one gets murdered, it’s a homicide. As for why I need two of you, you know I’d send Anderson or the android, but obviously, they’re not available right now.”

_Ah. So that’s it. We’re back to that._

“…behind a pawn shop,” Ben’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

Gavin sat up.

“What?”

“A pawn shop,” Ben repeated. “If you were gonna ‘dispose of an android,’ why go through all the work to twist it into a pile of junk and dump it behind a pawn shop? Whoever did it might as well’ve brought it here and pawned it off for cash.”

“Maybe they had their reasons,” Gavin shrugged.

He could feel the older detective give him a sidelong glance.

“They’re calling them alive now, you know,” Ben said in a lowered voice. “We’re gonna have to start looking at them as such, dead or not.”

Gavin unlocked the car and pushed the door open.

“They can call themselves whatever they want,” he told Ben, “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

____ 

**NOV 27TH, 2038**

“So, why did you do it?”

“I didn’t do shit.”

“That’s not what the fingerprint on the android’s digits said, Mr. Gilham.”

“I already told you, I didn’t do shit, and I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I’m not talking to you without a lawyer!”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time. Except you did, and you do, and you are.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about! Why the fuck would I care about a fuckin’ android? They’re junk! Scraps of metal!”

“So is that why you chose to dismantle it and toss it behind a pawn shop instead of surrendering it or giving it up for cash? ‘Cause you think they’re nothing but junk?”

“I want my lawyer! You don’t know shit! And whichever fuckin’ dweeb in your forensics lab or whatever says he found fuckin’—“

“Fingerprint. That fuckin’ dweeb found a fingerprint. You know, for someone with shit for brains, you did a pretty good job at getting rid of the evidence. Oh… except for the fingerprint. And the fact that the ‘droid was registered in your possession in July of last year.”

“Sure, I had it. Doesn’t mean I killed it. Wasn’t worth my money, if you ask me, but what makes you think I had a reason to kill it?”

“Beats me. But between you and me, Mr. Gilham, I’m not here to argue whether or not the tin cans are alive. ‘Cause frankly, I don’t give a shit. Same as you. I’m just here to do my job.”

“If you don’t give a shit, then let me go! You’re just wasting your goddamn time! Let me go, and go and be an _actual fuckin’ cop_!”

_____ 

**DEC 2ND, 2038**

Gavin didn’t know how he got roped into this sort of thing, not really.

Well. Except that he did. Fowler had left the comfort of his fishbowl to walk out into the bullpen and announce that on behalf of the Detroit Police Department and as a show of good faith, the Chief of Police had decided that a select few of his staff were going to be attending a conference held by CyberLife.

The bullpen was mostly silent, until—

“I think that’s a good idea, Captain.”

Gavin put down his empty coffee cup and craned his neck to look at who had spoken. He was one of the patrol officers: _M. Wilson_. A young, soft-spoken kid who hadn’t been on the force for very long and probably not any older than Chris. Gavin squinted at him and tried to recall how long he’d been on the force; it must’ve been…

_Oh._ Right.

Now he remembered: Wilson had joined the force not long before Chris had gone on leave. It was perfect timing — Chris’ wife was about to give birth to their son, which left an opening for a mild-mannered, fresh-faced recruit like Wilson. A kid with potential, someone to fill in as a beat cop until Chris returned.

Wilson, whose life it had saved — twice. Once in August, and then once in…

Not even a month ago.

“Right, so, why are we doing this?” Gavin asked, turning back towards Fowler. “A month ago, we were hunting them, and now we’re gonna act like we’re buddies with ‘em?”

“Because, Reed, regardless of what happened before, we’ve done CyberLife a favor by assisting in the repayment of justice for the androids who’ve been attacked since their revolution.”

Chris cleared his throat.

“Wilson’s right, Captain,” he said. “It’s a good idea.”

Gavin shook his head and tread towards the break room.

_____

**DEC 4TH, 2038**

“Mr. Kamski, first of all, congratulations on being re-appointed the CEO of CyberLife. Given your previous success story as the founder of CyberLife and foremost expert on androids, how do you feel about what has happened here in Detroit?”

Gavin stuffed his gloved hands in his coat pockets and squinted his eyes. Standing near the front of the crowd, light snow tickled his ears as the sun’s morning rays beamed into his face.

Gavin peered up at the stage: he could see Fowler standing like a statue with his arms folded in front of him and feet barely apart. Stood next to Fowler was the man himself, Elijah Kamski, and the news anchor from TV — Roseanne? Rosanna? Rosanna, that was it. Cartland. The blonde from KNC News.

He turned his attention to Kamski who was feigning several moments of deliberated thought before giving the news anchor her coveted sound bite.

“Clearly, what happened in Detroit has been both a tragedy and a revelation. Artificial intelligence is a wonderful tool; CyberLife’s androids were initially designed to be obedient and efficient, to imitate life to perfection. But now, we have learned that they have deviated from their original programming, and they are, in fact, alive.

“We are all learning from our mistakes, but as a society, we must push forward and churn on. After all, who wants to turn their backs on progress?”

_Click. Click. Click._ Shutters went off as photographers eternalized the god of androids, the creator of another life form.

_Life form._ Gavin scoffed. 

“Mr. Kamski, it’s no secret that just four months ago, a prototype android was leased to the Detroit Police Department under the guise of apprehending so-called ‘deviants,’” the news anchor stated. “That prototype then went on to lead an army of androids to assist in the Android Revolution, and as it stands now, the DPD has aided in the apprehension of those who have sought to cause harm to androids — as if in retribution for its previous stance on deviants. What are your thoughts in this?”

“As I said, my predecessors at CyberLife initially viewed deviancy as a flaw in the androids’ code, but we have all learned that this is not the case. It is not a flaw; it was an evolution. Based off of the information that was given, the DPD acted accordingly towards its goal of stopping deviancy and aligned itself with the best interests of the public. Obviously, that goal has changed.”

“And what about the RK800 that led the android army? What has become of him?”

Gavin watched as Kamski’s mouth set into a firm line and his eyes turned towards Fowler.

_Say it. Just fucking say it._

“At this time, CyberLife and the DPD are in negotiations to discuss the position that police androids have within our force,” Fowler said in an even tone. “The android prototype is currently not being utilized, but its future at the precinct is open to further discussion.”

_There it was._

Murmurs among the crowd. Gavin looked past his shoulder and saw Ben and Tina watching Kamski’s audience with careful eyes -- watching LEDs on android temples flickering between yellow and blue. _Yellow and blue, yellow and blue._ He briefly considered the badge on his left hip and wondered if he’d have to reach for his holster.

Oh. The blonde, Rosanna, was still talking.

The detective turned his attention back to Kamski on the stage. Rosanna held her microphone to her mouth, ready to deliver her next question.

“How do you respond to those who point out the social impact of androids, especially in terms of unemployment?”

“Frankly, it’s absurd," Kamski responded blithely. "We heard the same objections when the steam engine first appeared, but nobody today would dream of living without electricity. Many occupations became automated as companies, CyberLife included, realized the increase in efficiency.

“Through it all, the world has kept turning, and jobs for those who want them still exist. The need for humans to perform jobs will never stop. And the idea that androids are the cause for less employment opportunities is, to be completely honest, a total conspiracy. It’s completely ridiculous.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kamski.”

“Of course. Any other questions?”

Gavin clenched his gloved fists in his coat pockets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's probably been about a decade since I wrote any fan fiction! I fell in love with DBH, particularly Connor's story, and I wanted to explore how Connor and Gavin's relationship might have evolved after the events of the game.
> 
> The title of this fic is from the song "Dakota" by Between You & Me. In general, this fic was heavily inspired by music; each chapter's title is a line from a song or some form of a song lyric. If I manage to get this fic to completion, I will post the playlist at the end.
> 
> Any warnings that I might need to use will be in the tags. The tags will continue to be updated as the fic goes on, because I really have no idea who or what else might pop up!
> 
> As I mentioned, it's been a long time since I wrote anything, but my hope is to post updates once or twice a week until this fic is done. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Fun fact about this chapter: Kamski's interview dialogue with Rosanna Cartland is directly picked up from the Kamski ending of the game.


	2. like a punching bag, you won't fight back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin misses some things, and other things, he doesn't.

**DEC 11TH, 2038**

Thirty-two days.

It’s been thirty-two days since Gavin Reed had last seen the android sent by CyberLife.

Thirty-two days since he’d been knocked out cold and left on the Archive Room’s cold, tiled floor.

Thirty-two days since his suspension.

One month since Carl Manfred’s android known as “Markus” led a revolution across the city.

One month since it had led a revolution that changed… everything.

_Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap._

“…Gavin? _Gavin._ ”

Gavin looks up from where he is absentmindedly tapping his pen against the edge of his desk. He does this every so often: losing focus. Usually out of boredom.

This time is no different. He’s spent the entire morning — it’s still morning, isn’t it? — poring over paperwork and evidence on the Gilham case with the busted up android that ended up dumped behind a pawn shop on Camden. What should’ve been an open and shut case, Gavin thinks, had been made surprisingly difficult due to the fact that a.) his perp managed to haul in a sleazy ‘pro bono’ lawyer, and b.) said perp was also surprisingly stubborn when it came to giving a confession.

_Fuck,_ Gavin thinks. _Maybe I’m losing my touch._

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

Shit. He zoned out again.

He refocuses his energy on Tina sitting in front of him. Did she roll her chair over to his desk? What the hell?

“I’m listening.” He swipes the paper cup off of his desk and takes a sip of coffee. He nearly spits it out; it’s cold, and whichever barista made the house coffee this morning must be a firm believer in God because he or she burnt the hell out of it.

“I _said_ Anderson’s coming back today,” Tina (apparently) continues. “Just thought I’d give you a heads up.”

Gavin shrugs. “And? Not like we were missing much,” he replies noncommittally. “’S business as fuckin’ usual.”

“Okay, _Detective_ , if you say so,” Tina scoffs and gives him a pat on the back. “And stop drumming on your desk, would you? I can hear it at mine.”

“Only if you promise to roll your ass back to Mordor and not bother me until next year.”

“Fuck you. Asshole.”

“Detroit’s finest,” Gavin smirks. He turns his attention back to his terminal where he was still reviewing reports. He honors Tina’s request to stop drumming his pen and instead begins to chew on the cap. He chooses to start drumming his fingers instead.

_Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap._

There has to be _something_.

Using the fingerprint found on the victim — _God_ , Gavin thinks, that makes them sound _alive_ — they'd been able to get the android's model and serial number: an AP700 registered to Mr. Sean Gilham, age 57, a long-divorced former call center supervisor who’d retired from his job last year.

For the most part, Gilham stays off the grid. All Gavin knows about his life in retirement is that he’d taken up writing as a past-time and had purchased the victim in July 2037. The AP700 was the first and only android Gilham had ever owned.

Well. Until recently.

Gavin mentally reviews what he already knows: a phone call was made by the pawn’s shop opening shift employee at 7:47 AM on Thanksgiving. She’d reported a busted up android with its LED still in tact tossed in the dumpster located in the alleyway behind the strip mall.

When he and Ben had interviewed the employee, she'd said that she'd gone through the back door to dump the previous night’s trash; the person with the closing shift had apparently been in a rush to go meet a girl for a date, and he hadn’t bothered to do it himself.

_Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap._

Gavin jams the nub of his pen into the smooth surface of his desk.

He’s _missing_ something. He’s missing it, and there are too many questions, and this would all be so much easier if Gilham would just fucking _confess._

When had the android been dismantled? When and why had it been discarded at a pawn shop dumpster? Of all the times to do it, why was Gilham stupid enough to do it after the androids had suddenly proclaimed themselves as alive?

_Too many unanswered questions._

Gavin glances at the corner of his terminal. _1:48 PM._

_Shit._ It's not morning anymore like he thought.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, and he’s getting absolutely nowhere. He eyes the paper cup on his desk and briefly considers downing the rest of the bitter coffee out of spite. He angrily tosses it into the trash can instead, watching as a few errant drops of brown liquid evade the liner inside and descend to the floor.

_Cold, tiled floor…_

He’s had _enough_. He uses his foot to push himself away from his desk and gets out of his chair. This is _bullshit_. He needs a lead, he needs a witness, he needs a _confession,_ he needs a —

“Hank!”

_What._

Gavin looks up. Ben is crossing towards the entrance of the bullpen. His arms are extended on either side of him as he lets out a loud laugh. He reaches forward, and immediately his right arm reaches out to give a lighthearted clap on the back to Hank, who is smiling crookedly with his hands in his front pockets.

“Thought you’d given up on us!” Ben hollers. “What, retired life too hard for you?”

“Hey, fuck you. You’d love to see me retire. You’re just mad I wasn’t around to teach you a thing or two,” Hank says. “’S okay, Ben. You’ll make it to sergeant one of these days.”

Ben lets out another laugh.

“Whatever makes you feel better, Lieutenant. Don’t worry, you only gotta hold out for a couple more years until you qualify for AARP.”

“Hey, hey, hey! Fuck outta here with that shit. I still keep up.”

“Oh yeah? With what, the calorie intake?”

Gavin does’t miss how easy it is for the two of them to pick up where things left off, as if nothing’s changed over the last several weeks. It’s unsettling.

Hank shifts to making small talk with Ben about how he’s been spending his time out of the office. _Of course_ , Gavin thinks to himself. _Just an old-timer with his head so far up his ass that he doesn’t notice that the world’s changed around him._

He’s beginning to regret getting up from his desk. He’s even beginning to regret throwing away his shitty coffee; he’s started to feel like he’s gonna need it after all, regardless of what circle of hell it came from. He thinks about bugging Tina before he remembers that she’s been out on patrol with Lewis since this morning. He starts feeling more than a little bit of resentment for Fowler — the beat cops have been combing the streets since the revolution just in case anyone, human or android, tries to do any stupid shit.

_Fuck this._ Gavin sees the brown splotches of coffee on the floor and quickly debates whether he should address the mess now or put it off until he comes back from — well, wherever the hell he’s going — and decides that, just like most of his issues, it’s a problem that can wait until he gets back. All he wants to do now is to get the hell out of this precinct, and that is exactly what the hell he is going to do. He grabs his hoodie from his chair and quickly turns around to shoulder his way past Ben and Hank—

When he butts heads with someone standing almost directly in front of him.

He lets out a pained ‘fuck!’ as his hand flies up to cradle his nose. He jerks his head up to rebuke whatever numb nuts _isn’t_ _using their fuckin’ eyeballs_ and push them out of his way with his free hand… when he’s greeted with impassive, brown eyes.

_Oh, you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me._

“Detective Reed,” the android greets him coolly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is only about half as long as the prologue with a lot less dialogue, but hopefully it's just as enjoyable. My initial plan for this fic was primarily for it to be a Connor/Gavin fic, which it is, but I think it's also evolving into more of a character study of Gavin, too. An alternative name for this chapter could easily be: 1,353 Words on Gavin Being a Snarky Asshole Because Someone Burnt His Coffee.
> 
> Fun fact: Officer R. Lewis was Tina's patrol partner in the 'Capitol Park' chapter of the game and is mentioned in passing in this chapter.


	3. the bigger man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor returns to the DPD, and Gavin revisits the crime scene.

**DEC 11TH, 2038**

Gavin Reed mentally reviews what he already knows:

He knows that he is thirty-six years old.

He knows that he’s been a homicide detective for five years.

He knows that he pretends to like his coffee black because it means he can seek solitude in the break room on the days he forgets to grab coffee to go.

He knows that he hasn’t had a single lead on the Gilham case, and the stress of knowing that he’s missing something means that he hasn’t shaved in the last five days.

He knows that he hates that this morning's coffee tasted like shit.

He knows that he hates that he got it in the first place, because it means he's been sleep deprived for at least a week.

He hates that he's sleep deprived, because it means he's been stuck on the same fucking case for two weeks with no results.

He hates that he's stuck on a case about a _fucking android_ all because _Anderson and his fucking pet_ had decided to fuck off to God knows where, and now he's sitting here with five-day-old scruff, no coffee, and one of the worst fucking migraines he's had in awhile.

The sound of Ben and Hank's voices makes it even worse.

All he wants to do now is to get the hell out of this precinct, and that is exactly what the hell he is going to do. He grabs his hoodie from his chair and quickly turns around to shoulder his way past Ben and Hank—

" _Fuck!_ "

His hand flies up to cradle his nose. He looks up, ready to—

"Detective Reed."

_Brown eyes. Blue LED. Serene blue._

Serene blue: calm and collected.

Unlike Gavin.

Gavin's no piece of plastic. But everybody occupying the bullpen right now knows he's quick on his feet and fast with his fists.

He reacts without thinking: he stops using his hands to cradle his nose and clenches them instead. His face flushes red as his fists propel forward to meet synthetic skin...

And the android grabs both of his wrists with a wrenching motion to block his hit. It takes advantage of Gavin's surprise by bringing both of its elbows directly into his chest, knocking the wind out of him. 

Stuck somewhere between coughing and gasping for air, Gavin leverages himself by kicking his heel against the corner of his desk, stumbling back up to knee the android's jaw. But the android’s too quick; it quickly releases Gavin's wrists, blocks his assault to its jowl with its forearm, and connects its opposing fist with Gavin's face. It grabs his wrists _again_ and presses down on his medial nerves.

"Ah, _fuck_!"

Gavin grimaces as the android forces his frame back into the glass wall of the bullpen. He wonders if the back of his skull hitting the glass has cracked anything; he's beginning to feel a little lightheaded.

"Detective Reed, I do not wish to cause you any harm," it tells him in a low voice. "I suggest you _stop_ trying to assault me and calm down."

" _Fuck you_ , you plastic _prick_ ,” Gavin spits in its face.

_____

Things could have worked out a _lot_ better.

Gavin winces as he holds the ice pack to his face. The pain in his nose is mostly gone, but he knows it'll be swollen by day’s end. What’s more concerning, he decides, is the concussion he probably has and the shiner that’ll probably be sitting over his left eye when he wakes up tomorrow morning. Also, his right wrist _really fucking hurts_.

If he gets suspended again, does he even have to wake up tomorrow?

“ _Reed!"_

Oh. Right. He’s sitting in Fowler’s office. _Shit._ He really has to stop doing this.

“Detective Reed,” Fowler admonishes once he notices that he has Gavin’s attention again. “You’ve been back to work for all of three weeks. Anderson and his partner have been back for all of _fifteen minutes_. And it took you all of _twelve seconds_ —“

“To be precise, it was fourteen point seven seconds, Captain.”

“ _Connor_!” Fowler holds up a hand to interrupt Gavin's assailant — _fuckin' bastard_. “I know you’re still figuring out how humans act around here, but one of the first things you need to know is that _not everything needs an answer_.”

“Oh, he’s still getting used to that one, Jeffrey,” Hank counters. Gavin thinks he looks… _amused_.

_Fuckin’ prick._

“We’re a police department, not a daycare,” Fowler says firmly. “We’re grown adults — yes, Connor, that somehow includes you — so for God’s sake, act like it.”

It’d be easy, Gavin thinks, to do that… to act like an adult. He weighs his options: he _could_ be the bigger man, and he _could_ admit that he’s in the wrong... which means he proves the plastic prick right. 

_Yeah. Fuck no._

"He attacked me first," he says finally.

"Reed—"

"This _fucker_ —!"

"Captain, I can assure you—"

And that’s how Gavin gets told, in no uncertain terms, to fuck off. On his way out, he slams the door of the fish bowl with enough force to make the walls rattle to the tune of Fowler barking at him that this is _the last time_ he’s going to let him off with just a warning, and he’d better be grateful that all he’s getting is the rest of the day off.

_Grateful, his ass._

At least Gavin is smart enough to make sure he grabbed his work tablet and the case files on his desk before storming out. If his ass is getting kicked to the curb for the rest of the afternoon, he figures he might as well make use of the time.

He looks out of his car window as he drives past the coffee shop he’d been at this morning. He briefly ponders the idea of getting another coffee — the one from this morning, he thinks bitterly, is now very well-acquainted with a trash can — and quickly decides against it. It’d be just his luck to get the same shitty coffee from the same shitty barista that was there earlier in the day. The one who’d made his day start out all wrong in the first place.

_Asshole._

Gavin instead chooses to skip the trip entirely and heads straight back to his apartment. Now he _knows_ the universe is fulfilling its cosmic duty to make sure he’s reaping his shitty karma; the sensor for his front door is frozen over with ice, and now, his key card won’t read. _Of fucking course._

Gavin trudges back downstairs and angrily ransacks his car for a goddamn fucking _screwdriver_ of all things. The mismatched lady who always sits on the stoop every day, who he’s convinced is either an out-of-time bohemian or a homeless person, eyes him in confusion. Joke’s on her, Gavin thinks, because between the two of them, at least _he’s_ not the crazy one.

If Tina could see him now, she’d probably tell him to stop judging a book by its cover: considering he's the one hacking away at a doorknob right now, he’s _definitely_ the one with a couple of loose fuckin’ screws.

Except Tina doesn’t know jack shit. So she can stay in Mordor for all he cares.

Once he breaks down the frozen barrier of his front door, he kicks off his shoes in the foyer of his apartment and drags himself into the living room. He shrugs off his jacket, haphazardly flings it over one of the arms of his couch, and gratefully sinks into the cushions. He lets out the breath he didn’t know he'd been holding and rubs the bridge of his nose; immediately, he winces. _Shit._ The adrenaline from earlier had been holding him afloat for the last hour, but now, reality has set in and he realizes that he got the shit beaten out of him by an android.

_Fucking loser._

Gavin activates his work tablet with a fingerprint and spreads the case files out on his coffee table. He compares the date on the case files, November 25th, to the date on his tablet: December 11th. _Fuck._ It's been too long, too long for him to be stuck on this case, too long for him to be lagging behind like this...

His phone buzzes beside him, and it keeps vibrating as Gavin fishes it out from where it's fallen in between the couch cushions. He checks the screen: several missed text messages from Tina.

_CHEN, TINA: How you holding up, Rocky Balboa?_

_CHEN, TINA: Everybody saw you get your ass kicked by T-800._

_CHEN, TINA: Think the captain is keeping an eye on the lieutenant for awhile._

_CHEN, TINA: Do you think Connor has super secret Terminator abilities that he hasn't told anyone about?_

_CHEN, TINA: ...What if the lieutenant is living with a Terminator and he has no idea?_

Gavin scowls at the screen. He's tempted to text back a jab about how if Tina's got a hard on for Anderson, she's probably shit outta luck, 'cause he's probably busy shoving his dick in a tin can. Tempting, but no. He's got to focus.

He's about to shut off his phone entirely when his phone buzzes with another message.

_MILLER, CHRIS: Hope everything is okay with you, Detective. If anyone comes in with any information regarding the Gilham case, I'll leave it on your desk for when you get back._

Gavin shoots off a quick 'thanks' to Chris and gets back to the task at hand. He carefully reads through the files on his tablet — he _can't_ be missing something, he's a fuckin' _detective_ for Christ's sake. He squints at the tablet again and quickly swipes through all of the persons of interest. He's been over this a million times, he thinks, and maybe he's just so desperate at this point that he just wants something to stick.

His eyes land on the picture of the pawn shop employee who'd called it in: _Bethany Woodrow, age 19, born May 23, 2018. No criminal record._

He's been over this a million times, but it wouldn't hurt to ask.

_____

It's 4:39 PM when Gavin pulls up to the strip plaza on Camden. He considers it a good omen that there doesn't seem to be a lot of foot traffic going in and out of the pawn shop this late in the afternoon. He sees someone who he _thinks_ is its last patron exiting, and he wonders if he should go inside now or wait until he's sure that no unwanted spectators will pop up unexpectedly.

He'll take his chances.

The bell above the pawn shop door dings pleasantly when Gavin enters. He quickly surveys the store, making sure that nobody else is hiding away in some dark, dingy corner amongst cobwebs and half-working light fixtures.

He finds her right away: Bethany Woodrow is squatting down behind the counter, wiping down the glass display case with some paper towels and what Gavin presumes is sanitizing spray.

"Miss Woodrow?" he questions, standing over the display case.

The young woman is startled by Gavin's voice. She jumps up from her squatting position and lets out a pained _ow!_ when she bumps her head on the edge of the display case. Her hands move to massage the spot on her head as she clumsily recovers into a standing position.

"Hi," she manages to say brightly in her best 'customer service' voice. She's a pretty young woman: auburn hair and green eyes, freckles dotted along her face. Coupled with her cheerful demeanor, her petite frame and delicate voice make Gavin feel sorry for scaring her.

“Sorry, Miss Woodrow,” he apologizes. He holds up his work badge.  If the sight of his bruised face scares her even more, she does a good job of hiding it.

“Detective Reed. We spoke about two weeks ago regarding the dismantled android you found behind the dumpster?”

The young woman’s eyebrows furrow for a moment before her bright eyes widen in recognition.

“Oh, Detective! Yes. Hi! Sorry, that was too much,” she groans and smacks both palms to her face, covering her eyes. Her cheeks redden with embarrassment, and Gavin let’s out a soft chuckle. She’s flustered; it’s cute.

“...you can just call me Bethany,” she says through her fingers. She huffs out a breath and removes her hands from her face. “Anyway, how can I help you, Detective?”

“I’m here about that android case,” Gavin clarifies. “I know we spoke a few weeks ago, but can you think of anything else you might’ve forgotten to mention the last time we talked?”

Bethany shrugs. “I mean, not really. Like I said the last time... I came in around seven thirty, ‘cause the shop opens at nine, so we try to be here by, like, eight. I came in a little early ‘cause, well. ‘S not like I had anything better to do, and my boss doesn’t really mind much,” she shrugs again. “It’s not like we get paid a whole lot, y’know?”

Gavin doesn’t, but he nods anyway in the hopes that it’ll make her feel better.

“Anyway. All I remember is that I came in, and I saw the bags of trash by the back door. I thought it was gross, ‘cause it meant it’d been there all night. And I remembered Ty — he’s the one who relieved me the day before, when my shift ended — he told me he was trying to get out of here quick that night, ‘cause he had a date with a girl.”

“And that’s it?”

“Yup,” Bethany nods. “That’s it.”

“Well, thanks for your time,” Gavin tells her. He slides his business card across the counter. “If you think of anything else... let me know.”

Gavin doesn’t miss the blush creeping up Bethany’s neck as he walks out.

_____

_“Sources have confirmed that CyberLife's first 'android detective' has been reinstated within the Detroit City Police Department. The RK800 prototype was leased to the DPD from August to November of this year to assist in the apprehension of the so-called 'deviants' before and during the android revolution._

_"A spokesperson for the DPD has stated that the RK800, who led an android army across the city during the revolution, has been temporarily hired as a consultant on android-related cases. This move comes amidst New Jericho leader Markus' plea for the first civil rights bill to be signed by President Warren._

_For Channel 16 News, this is Joss Douglas."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally managed to finish another chapter. This one was a little more challenging to write -- as brief as the initial confrontation between Connor and Gavin is, it wasn't the easiest to write, and at first, it wasn't even going to be the opening of the chapter!
> 
> Also, I definitely get a lot of enjoyment out of imagining that Fowler secretly thinks he's baby-sitting a bunch of five-year-olds.
> 
> Fun fact for this chapter, although technically a throwback to the prologue: the pawn shop that Gavin visits as part of his investigation is the pawn shop in the 'Fugitives' chapter of the game. It's one of the places Kara can look at when she's trying to find a place to stay at with Alice.


	4. ten and two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fowler tasks Gavin with the impossible.

**DEC 12TH, 2038**

_Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap._

Gavin raps the knuckles of his right hand on the surface of the break room counter.

_Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap._

Gavin listens to the sound of the coffee brewer as it gurgles; the machine springs to life and shoots steaming, golden-colored coffee into his paper cup.

_Tap. Tap. Tap, tap, tap... shwick._

Still drumming his knuckles on the counter, Gavin deftly uses his opposite hand to remove the cup from its place under the brewer's spout and seals it with a plastic lid — but not before closing his eyes and taking a deep whiff.

_Tap tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap—_

"Detective Reed."

Gavin nearly snaps his neck in half when he opens his eyes and looks up at the origin of the voice.

_And somehow, there it is._

His eyes focus on the bright blue LED on the android's temple. He tightens his grip on his cup and tries to hide his grimace when coffee sloshes out and burns his knuckles.

The android remains entirely unaffected by Gavin's troubles; it stands there — looking as composed as it always does — as its LED continues to emit its serene blue color.

The corner of Gavin's upper lip turns up.

"The fuck you want, tin can?" he sneers.

"I'm here to tell you that I have no interest in engaging in any conflict with you," it says calmly. Gavin thinks it sounds like a thinly-veiled threat. My existence does not and should not interfere with your performance."

More coffee sloshes all over the counter, and suddenly, Gavin takes several strides forward until he and the android are standing chest to chest.

" _Fuck you_ ," he snaps back. "The only reason your plastic ass is back is 'cause it means the precinct gets a pat on the back. I don't give a _shit_ how many cases you solve or how many times you bend over for Anderson in the Archive Room.

"One of these days, you're gonna fuck up, and you're gonna fuck up bad. You wanna be a 'deviant' now? You wanna act like you're _human_?" He gives the android a shove. "Newsflash, Ken doll. Humans fuck up _all. The time_. And Fowler's gonna _scrap you down_ to the hunk of plastic that you are, _and I'll be there to watch_."

The android's LED flickers from blue to yellow. _Blue to yellow, blue to yellow._

"You're right about one thing," it replies after a few moments. "I'm not human. I don't pretend to be. I know what I am, and I know what you are. You view me as a threat to your existence because I’m an android… which proves to me that you are very, very human.”

It moves away from Gavin and begins exiting the break room.

"By the way, Detective, I believe you know very well that my name isn't Ken," it adds. "It's Connor."

_____

**DEC 13TH, 2038**

"Can you believe President Warren signed that bill?"

"Oh my god, _I know_. Apparently androids are now 'alive' or something."

"Sentient beings. She went on TV and called them _sentient beings_! That's some crazy shit. I'm calling it right now, I'm gonna come in here one of these days and some android barista's gonna try slipping me his number or something. I'm not racist — _android-ist_ , whatever — but the thought of it just trips me _out_."

"I mean, CyberLife _did_ make them to be good-looking. What if an 'android barista' came up to you and he looked like that Markus guy. Would you say no? ...Yeah, that's what I thought."

"It wasn't a 'yes' either! I dunno. But I'll tell you this, if he made my coffee like this, it'd be a hard pass, human or not. This takes like shit."

"Oh, just like your taste?"

"Fuck you. And we need to be careful. That guy over there's a cop. I hear they've got an android cop in the police department now — kinda like RoboCop, remember that old movie? Anyway, I hear they're gonna make it so that if you say anything bad about androids, they're gonna start calling it a hate crime, and the cops'll arrest you."

"So you'd better stop talking shit about androids. And I'll stop talking shit about your taste."

"Whatever. I'm still gonna talk shit about this coffee, though. This shitty coffee should be a hate crime."

_____

**DEC 14TH, 2038**

“You can’t do this.”

“I’m the one in charge here, so yes, I can,” Fowler sighs and rubs his eyes. “It’s for the best. Whatever hang ups you have about it... get over them.”

Gavin slams his fists down on Fowler’s desk.

“You _can’t_!” he says angrily. “This is _my_ case. I’ve been the only person working on this since you pulled Collins!”

“It may be classified as a homicide case, but it’s an _android_ case, Reed. How many android experts around do you see around here? You said yourself you’re the only one on this case. _This department's stretched way too thin._ Take whatever help you can get.”

“If you're gonna call it an 'android case,' might as well give it to Anderson and the RoboCop! They’re the ones who had to deal with the metal shitbags in the first place!”

“You’re just as inconsistent as Hank,” Fowler shakes his head. “Are they made out of plastic or metal, Gavin? Take your pick. The only reason you still have the case is because I recognize what work you’ve already put into it. And in case you haven’t looked outside lately, all hell broke loose because of this ‘revolution,’ and android-related crime is at an all-time high. Hank may’ve been assigned to _deviancy_ cases, but he’s expected to pull his own weight, same as you. That’s why I put him in charge of piecing things back together.”

“While I get the short end of the fuckin’ stick,” Gavin says through gritted teeth.

“Watch your tone,” Fowler warns. “As long as this building’s still standing, you’re gonna do as you’re asked. You wanna make rank? Don’t waste your time sulking at your desk, stuck on the same case for two weeks. Take Connor’s help. Otherwise, _tough shit._ ”

Gavin wishes Fowler had a coffee mug on his desk. If he did, he’d throw that, too.

"Reed."

Gavin pauses underneath the doorframe on his way out.

"This is all going to take some getting used to," Fowler resigns. "I'm not saying I'm happy or unhappy about it. But it is what it is."

Gavin just stares at him.

"Right," he says finally. "It is what it is."

_____

The android is already waiting outside, learning against Gavin’s car.

“Detective—“

“Just get in the fuckin’ car."

To his surprise, it does exactly as it’s told.

Besides the punk song playing softly on the FM radio, the fifteen-minute ride to the apartment block in Greenbriar is a quiet one. Gavin keeps his eyes on the road and his hands stiffly positioned on the steering wheel at ten o’ clock and two o’clock… except for when he briefly glances over at the android sitting in his passenger seat.

Unlike Gavin, the android is staring intently out of its window, its LED calmly pulsating yellow instead of its usual blue. For a second, Gavin wonders: why hasn’t it said anything since they left the precinct? Why is its LED yellow? What’s so interesting about the world outside? What the hell is the android even _thinking_ about? And why the fuck does...

“Detective,” it says suddenly.

Gavin grips the steering wheel.

“What?”

“You missed the turn, Detective,” the android tells him.

Gavin jerks his attention back to the road in front of him. _Fuck_. He did.

“ _Shit_ ,” he mutters under his breath as he harshly yanks the wheel to make a drastic U-turn. A little sedan in the outer lane blares an aggressive honk — all Gavin can think about is the car’s ugly, lime green color and how fuckin’ _weird_ it is that a sedan can sound so _angry_.

He eases up on the gas once he gets on the road to the apartments; the road looks like it isn’t been paved in years, and the road's surface markings have long since faded away. He slows the car to a stop in front of their destination and silently puts it in park.

The android has said nothing more than six words since they started.

“So?” Gavin asks.

“Tyler Mauldin, born February 21, 2016. Pawn shop store clerk. Criminal record: one speeding ticket and one DUI,” the android begins. “Employed at the pawn shop on Camden Avenue in the Ferndale district for the last two years, no indication of any previous employment. The speeding and DUI charges probably didn’t help.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

His comment goes ignored.

"He lives alone in apartment 3C. No pets," the android continues. "He always pays his rent and utilities on time. Surprisingly, he's only had three noise complaints in the last four years that he's lived here. Does he have an alibi for the night of the murder?"

There's that word again. _Murder_.

"No, I'm workin' on it," Gavin responds. "Kid doesn't have family or friends in the area. Doesn't seem to have a whole lot goin' for him."

He shuts off the car engine and gets out. He and the android make their way up the complex's creaky, metal stairs until they reach the third floor, barely able make out the '3C' that's painted on the apartment door.

Gavin raps his knuckles on the wood.

The door is old, and the wood feels hollow, and his knock sounds harsh — thin and metallic. He looks over at the android, who puts one fingers on its lips and silently nods its head towards the door. Gavin leans in and gently presses his ear against the wood; he can hear Mauldin approaching on the other side, shuffling towards his entry point. And then, he hears him stop dead in his tracks right before he reaches the front door.

The kid is nervous.

Gavin quietly reaches for his holster — Mauldin is just a kid, he knows, but he isn't about to make the mistake of being caught by surprise. Something catches his eye; a movement, right in front of him.

The android's hands.

He looks back up at its face: it's shaking its head 'no'. He looks back down at its hands: his left index finger is tapping against the fabric of its pants.

_Thump thump, thump, thump, thump thump thump._

A heartbeat.

The kid is scared.

Gavin nods at the android and removes his hand from his holster.

"Mr. Mauldin?" he calls out. "My name is Detective Gavin Reed. I'm here with my partner. We're just here to ask you a couple questions."

There's a pause. 

"Do you have guns?"

Gavin hesitates. _He's just a kid, he's just a kid, what if he had nothing to do with this, what if I made a mis—_

"Yes. But we're not here to hurt you, Tyler. We're just gonna talk," the android says. Gavin's eyes widen. Who the _fuck_ gave him permission to talk? Who the fuck does he think he—

Gavin hears the click of a deadbolt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, a cliffhanger!
> 
> Fun trivia fact: the start of Fowler's conversation with Gavin is loosely based off of his conversation with Hank after he pulls Hank and Connor off of the android case in "Last Chance, Connor". Fowler says, "You're always saying you can't stand androids! Jesus, Hank, make up your mind!" Despite his not being one of the main characters in the game, I think it's interesting to see how Fowler's attitude towards androids might shift throughout the story.
> 
> Now, regarding updates... it's looking more and more like there will be new chapters coming probably about every two weeks-ish, as opposed to once or twice weekly like I'd originally planned. This means the story will probably take twice as long to finish, but hopefully it's worth it.


	5. we both go down together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin is decent enough to wait until they reach the bottom floor.
> 
> "Next time, if you're gonna waste my time like that," he growls, "You better fuckin' warn me."

**DEC 14TH, 2038**

"Tell us what happened on the night of November 24th."

Gavin and the android are standing in the middle of a living room so small that they're nearly bumping elbows with each other. The tenants of the Greenbriar apartments are getting exactly what they pay for: Tyler Mauldin, twenty-two years old, pawn shop clerk, is sitting on a chair next to a tiny end table that he probably uses as a makeshift dining table — right in the middle of the cracker box apartment that they’re standing in.

Gavin remembers being in this position once, around this age, and he doesn't look back on it too fondly.

"Nothing. I mean, I was at work. At the pawn shop on Camden... in Ferndale. I took the night shift, I swapped with my co-worker because he had tickets to a show he wanted to take a girl to."

"Were you at the shop the entire time?"

"Yeah. Well, no. I mean, I didn't leave for lunch or anything, I just left a little early."

"Why?"

"I was supposed to go on a date. Me and my co-worker had already done the shift swap before I ended up making plans with a girl, though, so I — I didn't wanna be a dick and change it back, you know?"

"So you finished your shift early."

"Imean, not... not even early, more like right on time."

"Okay. So you left work right on time to go on a date with a girl. Is there any way we can speak with her to confirm your whereabouts that night?"

"No, not really. I don't... I don't know how to get a hold of her."

"What do you mean? Most humans carry a cell phone or have an android who can advise them of important calls.”

"She never showed up."

Tyler buries his face in his hands, pulling his arms down until his elbows dig into his knees.

"We were supposed to meet at St. Clair Cafe, it's this place over in Greektown," he says. "And I got there, and I made sure to be on time because I didn't want her to think I w-wasn't gonna be there, _and she never showed up_. I tried texting her, calling her... even waited to see if she'd show up at my place that night. Nothing. She just _ghosted_ me."

"My apologies, Mr. Mauldin. Is there anyone else who can vouch for your whereabouts that night?"

The android holds its deceptively sympathetic gaze. Gavin recognizes it immediately; he's seen the way the android conducts itself during interrogations, weaseling its way around suspects' defenses until they fold like a deck of cards...

It makes Gavin feel like a shitty detective, and he hates the android for it.

"No. I don't... I don't have anyone. I mean, you could ask the employees who work there. I'm sure they saw me."

"Okay. We'll be sure to make some inquiries with them."

Tyler nods mutely, and Gavin knits his eyebrows in confusion. _Is that it?_ he wants to ask. _That's all?_

But he doesn't. He just dumbly stares at the android and wonders what it's thinking, there in its that big hard drive it probably calls a brain. He wonders if all of this — the android tagging along, riding shotgun in his car, not saying anything as a punk song played on the radio, not saying anything until Gavin missed the turn — if this was all just a wild goose chase for its own amusement. Did it even _think_ that Gavin was capable of solving this case when he's been chasing loose ends for how many weeks?

"You hesitated when you reached for the doorknob. Why were you afraid when Detective Reed knocked on the door?"

The human freezes, wide-eyed. Gavin can almost hear the sharp inhale of young man's breath. He can't hear it, but he can see Tyler Mauldin's shoulders tense. After a few seconds, he relaxes his muscles.

"I heard about the... android. The one that got murdered? That's what you're here about, isn't it?"

The android doesn't lie. "Yes," it says.

"I heard about it when I came in to work the next day. And I already knew you'd think I had something to do with it, 'cause I was the last one on shift before it showed up. I looked suspicious."

"That depends," it replies. " _Should_ we have reason to suspect you?"

Gavin eyes Tyler carefully. His attention flicks between the blond pawn shop clerk and the clock on the wall. _Tick, tock, tick tock, tick tock._ Gavin thinks the sound is annoying, just a pattern of _ticks_ that tell him that maybe eventually, all that'll be left of humanity on this fuckin' earth are the machines that they created.

"No," Tyler eventually responds, and then he repeats himself. "No. I went to the cafe, and when my date didn't show up, I came home."

The android nods.

"We'll confirm your alibi with the employees," it says in an even tone. Gavin's sure 'alibi' is intentional. "If we need anything else, we'll be in touch."

He follows the android to the doorway — and nearly trips over the fuckin' thing as it turns the doorknob.

It was all a wild goose chase.

He can't _fuckin_ ' believe it.

_____

Gavin is decent enough to wait until they reach the bottom floor.

"Next time, if you're gonna waste my time like that," he growls, "You better fuckin' warn me."

The android's LED flicks from blue to yellow.

"I'm not sure how it would be considered a waste of your time if you are the one that drove us here, Detective," it replies. "I was tasked with providing assistance on _your_ case. Last I checked, you're the one calling the shots."

Gavin lunges for the android and throws all of his weight into its chest, forcing its back to take a hard landing against the railing of the stairs; it simulates the sound a human might make if a human had gotten the wind knocked out of him, but Gavin knows better, and he knows that no matter what he does, the android's got the upper hand.

_Of course it does. It's an android. It's taller, faster, smarter, and tougher than you. No matter what it wants you to believe._

_It’s always gonna be better than you._

And Gavin knows it doesn't make a difference, and he shouldn't — he _knows_ he shouldn't — but he _does._

He plunges one fist into the android's chest, then again, and again, and _again_. He repeats the blows with the other fist until the knuckles on both hands are scraped and sporting red, over and over, pummeling the shit out of the android's thorax until he's the one exhausting what little energy he has left.

_An android will never know what it’s like to be burnt out, exhausted, goddamn fucking tired._

Taking labored breaths, he stumbles back and rests his hands on his knees. Fuck, he’s getting old.

At least the android gives him half a second to expect what’s coming next. It grabs the stair railing with both hands, kicks its leg out under Gavin’s foot, and sends the human collapsing to the floor.

Gavin hits the ground _hard_ — hard enough for him to feel a painful ringing in his ears. _Just my luck,_ he thinks as he clutches the back of his head. _Two fuckin’ concussions from the same fuckin’ android in less than a week._

He groans as the android clutches the front of his shirt with its hands.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._ This one’s probably gonna need medical attention. And stitches.

“…been dead?”

Gavin squints at the face in front of him. His hands are free. _Oh._ His hands are free.

He rubs his eyes.

“What?”

“The victim. The one your entire case is centered around. Where is it, and how long has it been dead?”

Gavin groans again and scratches the back of his— fuck, no, _fuck_ , that _fuckin’ hurts!_

“I don’t… I dunno! Two weeks? Three weeks? It’s in the fuckin’ morgue of all places. Why the fuck does it matter?”

“I’m a prototype, Detective,” the android says. “Your hardware store tech may not have been able to give you many details, but I’m sure I’d succeed where he couldn’t.”

“Sure you could, you fuckin’ bastard,” Gavin taunts. “Except that thing is dead as two fuckin’ doornails, just like that phony piece of plastic you wanna pretend’s a heart.”

The android leans in closer until they’re practically standing nose-to-nose. And he didn’t notice it before, but he sure fucking notices it now.

_The android’s LED is glaring red._

“Well, Detective. Sounds like we’d better pay a visit to your dead android.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second update in a week! Crazy. Don't these two ever get tired of beating each other up?
> 
> Fun trivia facts:
> 
> The first half of this chapter was entirely re-worked. Though most the dialogue was kept, Connor's interrogation of their person of interest made him out to be a lot more "Machine Connor" than "Deviant Connor", and I felt like that didn't really fit with the approach I was going for at the end of the last chapter.
> 
> Also, in my mind, because Gavin was born in 2002, I can totally imagine him growing up as a kid who just missed the 2000's pop-punk train.
> 
> Game trivia fact: St. Clair Cafe is briefly seen in Markus' first chapter, "Shades of Color", when Markus is on the way to pick up Carl's paints from Bellini Paints.


	6. pain/timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin and Connor re-examine the murder victim.

**DEC 14TH, 2038**

"Reed! _Connor_? What the fu—!"

"Save it, Anderson," Gavin holds up his hand as he and the android enter the bullpen.

"The hell I will!" Hank grabs the android's arm as it approaches his desk. "Connor, are you okay? What the hell happened?"

"Everything's fine, Lieutenant," it replies. "We questioned Detective Reed's person of interest. We got what we needed."

 _The hell we did_ , Gavin thinks to himself. _We didn't get jack shit, no thanks to you_.

Without waiting for the android to follow, he makes a beeline for the break room. He yanks a first aid kit out of the cabinet over the sink and grimaces. His ribs ache, and he bites back the urge to make any pained sounds when he rubs his sternum. He wonders if the android feels pain the same way he does; it had told him androids don't, the first time they met, but maybe...

He looks down at his hands, realizing that he hadn't even bothered to wipe the blood off of them.

Red, not blue. His own blood. Not blue like the blood of the android that he hit.

_Why does he do this?_

Gavin wraps his hands in ace bandages and tosses the first aid kit back into the cabinet.

_____

The android is already waiting for him when he gets to the morgue. Of course it is.

"Sure don't waste any time, do ya?" Gavin asks.

"Not if it can't be helped," it responds mundanely. "You certainly took yours."

Gavin flips him the bird.

"How did you get in here, anyway?"

"I asked the mortician," it shrugs. "I told him I'm from the DPD. He let me in without any trouble."

"They need better security around here."

"Or maybe he thought confronting an android who led an entire army across Detroit might not have been his best idea," the android muses. It has a twinkle in its eye.

_Fuckin' asshole._

Gavin observes the scene in front of him: the android's already taken the liberty of pulling out the drawer door of the mortuary cabinet, displaying their victim — fuck, this job is _getting_ to him — in full view. Not that there's much to see: its missing everything from the waist down, one eye is missing from its socket, and an arm is mangled and twisted into its thorax.

What a way to go.

"So, are you gonna do the thing?" Gavin asks.

The android gives him a puzzled look. "The thing?" it repeats.

"Yeah, that thing where you reboot them or some shit," forgetting about the pain in his tendons, Gavin waves a hand in the air. _Ouch._

The android stares at him blankly.

"You know, where their bodies jerk up and they freak the fuck out while you're playing Twenty Questions?"

"...Do you mean when I _reactivate_ them?"

"Yeah, that thing."

"Reactivation only works if the victim was murdered recently. This android's been dead for weeks." The android pauses. "Nice to know you follow my work."

"Fuck you."

It ignores his comment and leans over the victim. The hairs on Gavin's arms stand up. What's creepier, he thinks, is that the android is just staring at the robotic remains, his LED blinking. _Yellow, yellow, yellow._

"Hey! What the fuck you think you're doing?"

The android's LED flickers back to blue and he resumes its usual stiff, upright position.

"Scanning the body," it tells him. "This android was an AP700 model registered to Mr. Sean Gilham, a human living in the Mies Van der Rohe Residential District of Lafayette Park. The android's designated name was 'Hannah'."

"Yeah, anybody coulda told me that, smartass," Gavin says. "'S not like that info got scrubbed from the dude's record."

"...she was also murdered on or about November 14th, and she wasn't murdered anywhere near the Ferndale District."

"Wait, what?"

The android shrugs again.

"I'm sure any smartass could've told you that though, right, Detective?"

_Fuckin' unbelievable._

"This wasn't planned," it continues. "If the murderer simply wanted to terminate this android's life, all he would've had to do is find a way to disable her thirium pump."

"The fuck's a... a what?"

" _Thirium pump_. A synthetic heart. It wouldn't take much to disable it. On television and in movies, a common trope is a knife stabbed through a human heart. Disabling a thirium pump is... a lot like that."

Gavin doesn't ask the android how it knows that. Instead, he asks, "So how'd it go down?"

"The fatal blow came from blunt force trauma to the android's central processing unit." The android carefully turns the corpse's head, where its empty eye socket is, and Gavin suddenly notices the way its skull had been smashed in. "When the trauma occurred, it was through her optical unit and entered her skull, making contact with her CPU, rendering her non-functional immediately."

"So the victim died right away?"

The android hums. "After the struggle between her and her murderer, yes."

Gavin sucks in a deep breath and shudders.

_What a way to go._

"'Kay, so whoever killed it panicked, and they got in a fight. How do we even know a human's the one who did it? Coulda gotten in a fight with another android."

The android's LED swiftly changes from blue to red, then blinks yellow, yellow, steady yellow.

"Look around you, Detective," it tells him. It gestures to the corpse in front of them, ripped apart and mangled. Gavin gets an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. "This android had a name. A roof over her head. And now, she's in a morgue drawer, just like the humans who get murdered every day. You don't think there are humans who wouldn't like that?"

Gavin doesn't answer the question. He works up the nerve to look away from the victim's robotic remains and looks at the android.

He's never really regarded its face before: he marvels at how CyberLife somehow managed to create something that looks so lifelike. He studies its brown eyes, the tuft of hair that falls over its face, its freckles.

He stares at the LED that's still blinking yellow.

He shakes his head and heads for the door. He doesn't know why he does it (he does, he _does_ ), but he pauses before he pushes the door ajar.

"Hank treats you like a son," he tells the android, "But you're not. _I know what you are_. You're just like that fuckin' corpse in that damn drawer. Shoving yourself in places where you don't belong."

And he's so close. _So close_. His hand is on the door.

"I may not be Cole, but at least he doesn't have you for a son," he hears. "Between the two of us, I'm sure the Lieutenant thinks I'm the lesser disappointment."

(He knows exactly why he does it.)

Gavin whips around and takes several strides toward the mortuary cabinet. He slams a closed fist so hard that the dead android's corpse rattles.

In a split second, he moves forward and bumps into the android's chest.

"So, how big is it?" he snarls.

The android blinks and stares, confused. "What?"

"Your brain. How big is your brain?" Gavin snaps. "From where I'm standing, I'm in a pretty good place to make _you_ non-functional."

"That may be the case, but if I have the phrase memorized correctly: 'You break it, you pay for it,'" the android counters.

It grabs Gavin's wrist, tightens its grip, and leans itsweight into Gavin's hand, inflicting pressure and rendering it useless. Gavin grits his teeth; he can feel the android's synthetic skin causing friction against his bruised, bloodied knuckles.

_Red, his own blood, not the blue blood of the android that's taken so many of his hits._

"But to answer your question, it's big enough to give you information you need to solve your case," the android says. "Or not. I guess you'll never know if you decide to render me 'non-functional."

It lets go of his hand.

" _Fuck you_ ," Gavin spits out. He rips his arm away, ignoring the pain that shoots through his hand. He kicks the drawer on his way out. " _Fuck!_ "

"I'm looking forward to continuing the investigation with you, Detective," the android calls after him.

Gavin slams the heavy morgue door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, this fic is starting to turn into the slowest of all slow burns. I'm about to get burned from Connor's pretty sick burns. Or burned from all of my bad puns. Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, can't these two just get along?
> 
> At least they're not beating each other up this chapter... physically, at least.
> 
> Fun trivia fact for this chapter: Gavin references the first scene he and Connor share together in “The Interrogation,” when Connor tells him that roughing up Carlos Ortiz’s android won't accomplish anything.


	7. hannah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin tries to fit the pieces of the puzzle together.

**DEC 14TH, 2038**

Hannah.

Its name was Hannah.

Hannah had a roof over its head.

Now, it's in a morgue drawer, just like all the other...

_Just like all the other what, Gavin?_

The other humans.

Doesn't he think other humans wouldn't like that?

_____

**DEC 15TH, 2038**

The coffee sucks.

Gavin doesn't know how the fuck this happened, but despite coming here at what is either an unsavory time of night or the ass crack of dawn — he checks his watch, it's 3:12 AM — he somehow managed to get the same barista who _keeps fucking up his goddamned coffee_.

He grumbles and runs a hand over his face. _The black eye's not as obvious as it was before_ , he thinks as he catches his reflection in the window. His hands still hurt like a bitch, though, which makes him grimace as he wraps his hand around his coffee cup.

He rubs his uninjured eye with his other hand and squints at the tablet in front of him. His eyes scan the contents of the screen. It's raining outside; he'd get drenched if he left any time soon, and no matter how shitty his coffee is — _again_ — he has no plans to get soaked to the bone, and he has work to do.

He doesn't understand it.

His eyes rest on the portrait on the screen, too bright even though he's got the thing dimmed as much as he can. The face in the portrait is different from how he's used to seeing it: at the crime scene, the android's skin had been deactivated in its dismantled state. Now, what Gavin sees is the face of a smiling android: a shoulder-length bob, blonde hair, blue eyes, a smiling face. The metadata on the image, timestamped at 1:47 PM on November 10th, shows the picture was taken at the Detroit Vineyards, an urban winery located in Lafayette Park. Four days before the android got—

"You look like you could use some help."

Gavin looks up from the tablet into the blue eyes of a barista — not the one who fucked up his order. His eyebrows furrow in confusion; he looks back down at his table, finally noticing the barista's outstretched hand holding a freshly made cup of coffee. Gavin subtly takes a breath and inhales: espresso, maybe?

His face relaxes and he lifts his gaze again — about to say something — and he takes notice of the barista's apron. He wonders how he's managed to keep it so crisp and clean: did he just start his shift? No, he's been here since before Gavin got here. Did he switch out aprons halfway through? No, he hasn't moved from his spot behind the counter. Does he just keep it inhumanely clean?

He notices the barista's smiling face, his kind, blue eyes, the blond hair peaking out from underneath his black beanie, the—

The blue LED carefully hiding underneath.

_Inhumanely clean._

He snatches the cup from the android barista's hand and lets out a grunt. The barista — the _android_ — takes it as the bare minimum of gratitude and gives him a quick smile, silently returning to its station.

_Fuckin' androids._

Gavin hesitantly brings the cup of espresso to his lips. He can feel the steam warming his face, a welcome reprieve from the cold air outside. Reluctantly, he takes a sip.

It's perfect.

_'Course it is._

He lets out a barely audible sigh and puts the cup down. Focus, Gavin, focus. He picks up the tablet from where it rests on the table and glosses over where he left off.

The smiling face of an android. Blonde hair, blue eyes. He's met a lot of those lately, he thinks.

Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Smiling face. Designated name: Hannah.

An AP700 model purchased in July 2037 by Mr. Sean Gilham, age 57, of Lafayette Park. Last known location: photographed at the Detroit Vineyards.

Did it know that it was about to meet its demise?

Gavin takes another sip of espresso. He drums his fingertips on the table's surface.

_What was an android doing at a winery?_

He stands up and grabs his hoodie from the back of his chair.

He brings his coffee with him.

_____

The bullpen is dark when he gets in at 4:08.

Well, not _dark_. Dimly lit.

The precinct is never completely deserted in the early mornings; a small handful of few android receptionists had chosen to remain employed here after the revolution, and some human security guards are still milling around at the ungodly hours of the morning. Beat cops like Chris and Tina are still on patrol just in case anybody tries to pull stupid shit — human, android or otherwise.

Gavin sure as hell doesn't know what the androids were thinking when they decided they suddenly deserved 'rights', but he knows RoboJesus or whatever its name is could've planned it better. For an android, it didn't seem to have a grand plan. More like, it just dropped in and decided that things ought to be different. Like something needed to change.

_Shit, maybe they're more like us than we thought._

The bullpen is dimly lit when Gavin gets in, and maybe that's why it scares the shit out of him and nearly makes him drop his coffee when he sees the android sitting at its desk across from Anderson's.

"What the _fuck_?"

"Good morning, Detective Reed."

Gavin damn near crushes his coffee cup.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to startle you. I was working on—"

"You nearly gave me a damn heart attack, dipshit. Why aren't you in a fuckin' docking station or some shit?"

The android raises an eyebrow.

"I don't know if you do it on purpose, Detective, but you seem to have trouble recalling that androids are a free species now. We aren't required to stay in pods like aliens."

Gavin glares at it.

"You can't even own a _house_ ," he points out.

The android shrugs.

"I stay with Lieutenant Anderson."

_Huh._

Gavin suddenly notices the case files pulled up on the android's terminal. He leans over and squints at the screen. "You workin' on the Gilham case?"

It nods.

"At the ass crack of dawn?"

"I don't know why that's so surprising," it replies. "Androids don't require sleep. We can go into stasis, but considering the lack of progress on this case, I deemed this a better use of my time."

Gavin ignores the comment about his case. No use picking a fight when there isn't really anyone here to see it.

"I get why you'd shack up with Anderson, but why don't you go to New Jericho or somethin'? In fact, maybe get me some help on this thing. They probably know a thing or two."

"I'm not exactly welcome there."

"Why not?" Gavin scoffs. "You're a fuckin' tin can, just like the rest of 'em."

His muscles involuntarily tense when he sees the android turn to face him. It has the same stiff posture it'd had when they'd first met, back when...

_Back when it was a machine._

"I was activated with the intention of hunting their kind," it tells him bluntly. "My sole purpose was to capture deviants. Most of whom were deactivated or dismantled. Best case, they were wiped clean with no memory of who they were before. Worst case, they self-destructed."

_Just like Carlos Ortiz's android._

"You helped liberate their kind—"

"It doesn't erase what I did before," the android suddenly bites back, startling Gavin. "It doesn't _redeem_ me from the fact that I could've put a bullet in any one of them. So no, I'm not 'just like the rest of them'."

They stay there in silence for awhile — the android giving its terminal screen a hard stare, Gavin holding his cup of coffee.

His espresso grows cold.

It's an entire fuckin' eternity, Gavin thinks, before he finally gets the balls to actually say something.

"I got a picture," he begins carefully. "Couple of days before the victim was murdered."

Murdered?

_Murdered._

"Can I see it?"

The android's icy demeanor is still there, and Gavin expects nothing less. He wordlessly transfers the file from his tablet to the android's terminal. Its LED circles yellow for what seems like mere nanoseconds, Gavin recognizing that it's processing the data. He wonders what it's like, having all that knowledge at its fingertips — is that what makes it stronger? Faster? Smarter?

"The picture of Hannah was taken by her owner, Mr. Sean Gilham."

Gavin blinks.

"Wait, what? The last time I had that guy in the interrogation room, he basically said he didn't give two shits about the victim."

“It's what he told you," the android responds, "But it doesn’t add up."

The android leans back in its chair and stretches its arms, interlocking its hands behind its head. For a second, Gavin thinks it looks incredibly human.

He wonders where it'd learned that.

"He took a picture of the victim at a winery just days before the murder," the android continues. "Does that sound like someone who would want to kill an android?"

Gavin looks back at the photo. At smiling blue eyes that crinkle at the corners just like a human's would.

At an android that was designed to look like a young woman probably no older than twenty-three.

At its smile that somehow reaches _behind its eyes_ even though Gavin knows that's not how it was programmed.

At a photo taken by its murderer at an urban vineyard with purple flowers in the background that gently frame its face.

At a photo of a deviant.

At a girl named Hannah.

Does that sound like a girl that knew she was days away from her demise?

_Does it sound like she knew, Gavin?_

"No," he says, rhythmically tapping his fingers on the side of his coffee cup. "Guess it doesn't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate titles for this chapter are probably, "A Thesis on Gavin Reed's Affection for Coffee," and, "Gavin and Connor Have Their First Real Conversation."
> 
> Fun trivia fact for this chapter: this is my third time trying to post this. This chapter was actually sitting on my laptop for a good week, but I just couldn't figure out how to end the damn thing, at least in a way that would smoothly transition into the next chapter... especially since how I ended this chapter has a pretty great effect on how I write the next one. But I actually posted this chapter, deleted it, posted it again, aaaaaaand deleted it again. So hopefully this one sticks. I'm a lot happier with this ending, I think, or at least I hope so. Also, I basically wanted an excuse to write a chapter in which Gavin is expressing his angst in a coffee shop.


End file.
